IQ Catherine the Femme Fatale
by Fluxit Aqua et Sanguine
Summary: It's another re-write of the lame romantic comedy I.Q. that is only worth noting because of Stephen Fry, only romantic when it's re-written, and only funny when Stephen's character fails at getting his popcorn. Please R/R! 8D T for later content.


**A/N: I OWN NOTHIN'. And I don't actually like the movie I.Q. , except for the fact that my love is in it. (Stephen Fry, in case you don't know- but if you're reading this, you've probably read my other work somewhat, and, in that case, you definitely know.)**

**SO. This is a spoof of the movie that I decided to make alongside (literally- we're starting this in the same room together) my best friends, as they write their own re-makes, one of them, a full-throttle rant-rewrite, and the other, what REALLY happened. I'm goin' for the one in which Catherine is TOTALLY EVIL, and stringing along these two loveleh (well, Fry, anyway) young men.**

**_ENJOY_, DAMN YOU!**

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Catherine Boyd was what one would call an 'emotionally simple girl'. Her brain may have been called 'humongous', 'leviathanesque', and 'larger than that of the average brine shrimp', but she was not the best at dealing well at people. Despite her sparkling blue eyes, her white teeth that could reflect light rays back at ten times their normal strength, and her bleached-blonde curls, Catherine was not at all adept at dealing with people in a kindly way. She simply could not find one friend,- much less one man,- who could tolerate her behavior unless she utterly changed it- it was for this reason that those few who managed to enjoy her company knew a girl that was completely different than her true self. The only streak of her stubbornness and the unpleasant qualities that trailed along with her like a rather pungent odor was that she would often go on montonous rants about physics (seriously, WHO CARES that subatomic particles have no color? And what practical use can that POSSIBLY have?) that really had no relation to the topic at hand. It was just another display of her terrible, _terrible _lack of tact.

Of course, these emotional difficulties were remedied by the fact that Albert "the Jizz" Einstein was her Uncle. There was simply nothing better to break the ice than sauntering up to a handsome man, batting the eyelashes, and quipping in a smooth, seductive voice, "How would you like to know about the Special theory of Relativity? Well, then, there's a man you'd like to meet..." Ten percent of the time, it worked every time. Well, once. It was only her luck,- as if she deserved luck,- that this occurred with the most handsome man of her community, a very tall, grey-blue eyed and delightfully dark-haired Englishman who had come to the United States a few years prior to begin his own practise in Psychology- the very opposite of Catherine's profession, the study of the workings of the human mind, and the practical application thereof. He spent all of his time and money for the insitute that he was beginning at the University- well, besides that which he gave to Catherine, anyway. Catherine was well aware that he adored her, and was prepared to take advantage of that fact whenever she could.

And take advantage she did, from the very start. Because of the practically obscene amount of money her fiancée James Moreland earned, combined with her fame and 'goody-goody' reputation from being the niece of Einstein, she was able to do practically whatever she wanted- take trips to fabulous places, buy whatever extravagant food she wanted- wine with flakes of gold leaf in it was her favourite, besides, of course, the _Frozen Hot Chocolate_, a dessert she sampled in New York City that was a blend of twenty-eight cocoa variaties, fourteen of them the most expensive in the world, and covered with five grams of twenty-three karat gold. She assured James when she returned from her solo vaction that it was the most heavenly thing she'd ever eaten. Of _course_ it was worth the twenty-five thousand dollars, silly! So were the looks she got from all of the lovely men in the restaurant that evening she wore the transparent dress, but, don't worry sweet- you know what Cole Porter said- 'I'm always true to you, darling, in my way!'

The greatest vice of hers was certainly this last, of flirting with other men. It was rare that her advances were paid mind- sure, men would be initially attracted by her lovely features, but then her grating, nasally voice would sound, blathering on about the antipodes of the Earth, and the electron clouds around atoms, and she morphed into a hag before their eyes. James was aware of the fact of Catherine's constant attractions to others to some extent, but calmed himself with the notion that she would slow down when they were finally wed. It had happened before, he recalled... Well, in some ways. Sometimes. Alright, it had actually never occurred that way when it was his male friends who were the ones who couldn't stop themselves flirting, but... perhaps, as a young woman, she would be somewhat different.

He had to remind himself of this thought one morning when he requested that Catherine come out for a drive with him, and she grudgingly agreed, muttering something about 'picking up someone at the bar' under her breath as she swung her purse around her shoulder with lethal speed. James attempted to smile and opened the door to the cherry-red car for Catherine, at which she snarled that she could do it herself and instead proceeded to climb over the door to the back seat and then into the front one simply to avoid James' assistance. It was pleasant enough for some time, with the pretty man-made scenery that was California, until the car began sputtering and issuing white smoke.

It was so thick that James couldn't see a thing, but could hear Catherine yelling, "There are some men with repair supplies over there! Come on, James, I want to have _fun_ tonight!"

James missed the whispered "because Lord knows I couldn't do it with _you_" as he drove into the repair shop, and stood up slightly to see into it. A tall man with hair that was dark with grease and falling over his small, sunken eyes, too-wide shoulders, and a weirdly disproportionate nose came out after some moments, apparently looking at them, until he stopped, and stared at Catherine. Catherine was enjoying it immensely, and worked hard to keep her lips over her teeth just enough to prevent the perfect light from shining off her teeth and not burn the man's eyes out; the wind blew in such a way that it allowed her to blink theatrically, and pushed her pale curls into her fiancée's face until he choked. Once James had recovered, unamused, he came from the car and questioned the still-dumb man about the problem. The fact that he hadn't done so much as speak a word since he came up to them rather didn't inspire confidence in his intelligence.

"Excuse me, sir. Have you any idea what's wrong with the car?" James was perfectly amiable, and looked at the man before him with the barest of smiles- certainly a great show of kindness for one whose fiancée was currently being leered at so intensely. As Catherine began sitting up further and leaning out of the car, and the man began walking unbelievably slowly towards the it, this was easy enough to recognise the set-up of a 'love at first sight' scene, and James ran between them in an attempt to intervene. He hadn't noticed until that moment that Catherine was wearing the barest of bikni tops, and nothing else (hadn't she been wearing a mink fur coat before?); the rest of her clothing seemed to have dissolved into thin air. Not a good sign, to say the least- especially when one noted that the mechanic had shed his oil-stained jumpsuit and was now clad in a too-small cheetah-print thong. "Sir? Will you please look at my car? We need to be getting on... we have places to be this afternoon..."

But the man continued to literally drag his feet through the dirt driveway around James, staring into the space where Catherine's face was, and, when he was blocked by the car itself, continued moving his feet as though he would walk further. Both he and Catherine had begun drooling slightly.

"Sir? Excuse me?" A shorter, Italian-looking man came from the shop and took the disabled repairman's arm,- whose nametag pinned to the front of his thong said "Caligula Pigula",- and brought him back into the repair shop with a word.

"What are you doing?" Catherine cried in horror, as her _ONE TRUE LOVE_ (re: one-night stand) was being dragged away.

"I'm sorry, buddy, this happens sometimes... he just gets really carried away with the whole, 'perfect love at first sight' thing... can't seem to shift him..." The other repairman returned, whiping his hands from the already-congealing mixture of saliva and sweat that his employee had left on him. "His name's Ed. Sorry- he isn't our best man. What can I do you for?"

James worked hard to prevent himself scowling at this repugnant slight against the English language before describing his trouble to Roy, the owner of the establishment- his fiancée was half-leaning out of the car, raising her arms and whimpering like a dog separated from her mate every few moments, staring at the door Ed had been pulled forcibly through- and gave all of his information, including his name, address, phone number, shoe size, and favourite colour of refrigerator.

"We can take it for ya, sure, Mister Amarinth," he answered with a smile to James' bemused face. "Come back to us soon!"

Taking this to mean that he could pick up the car soon,- as anyone would,- James suggested to the still-whining Catherine that she go to the shop to call for a cab, praying to the various powers that be that he wouldn't find her pregnant by the time she returned. Once she was back, tousled but apparently not harmed terribly, they waited for and got into a black cab back for their home. Catherine's clothes were suddenly returned unruffled again, and she regarded her fiancée with a touch of disgust,

"Do you have my allowance for this week, _dear?" _The word 'dear' was spoken in such a cloying way that one might have contracted diabetes from the unbearable false sweetness. "I need to... er... buy some new clothes for tonight. I'm going out, and I have literally nothing to wear!" James thought of the entire rooms in his house contributed to Catherine's extra clothes, and furrowed his brow, but said nothing as he handed five twenty-dollar bills to his squealing fiancée, who favoured him with a rather lame kiss on the hand. "Oh, this is just perfect! I gave my address to the one mechanic in there, you know..." she giggled again insufferably, "the _handsome_ one?"

James couldn't fathom which of the all rather unfortunate-looking young men she referred to, but guessed that it was the one who didn't speak, since Catherine always liked to be the absolute center of a conversation, and it was easy enough for a tactless physics geek like her to confuse good looks and the ability to shut up.

He wondered quietly why it was that he was still enaged to Catherine, besides his long-standing love for her, and decided that it was mostly his hope that she would change in the future. He was sure she could- an intelligent girl like Catherine could do anything, if she put her mind to it. And why would she possibly have gotten engaged to him if she didn't _want_ to be married, and only with him for the rest of her life?

The dark-haired man watched his fiancée pawing the bills in her hand with her mouth open in joy from across the cab. Why, _indeed._

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**A/N: Read and review? I know it's random, and maybe only slightly funny, but... I enjoyed writing it very much!**


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